Alts & Crossovers
by Chromantic
Summary: One-shots that might turn into more.
1. Chapter 1

_September 17th 2010_

Taylor hebert knew her family liked telling stories from a young age. Her dad, too, liked to tell stories about the docks from his childhood, but it was her mother and her grandma who were the real storytellers.

They weren't normal stories either, not just little anecdotes from their childhood with a few embellishments, or retellings of popular stories to appeal to her mind as a child. No, they told fantastical stories of a ceaseless fight between Light and Dark, Witches and Sages and her Grandmother even included herself as a character in some of the stories, despite some of them reaching back hundreds of years.

Her grandmother had disappeared when she was six, but she remembers how beautiful she'd been, with her european accent, lithe body and luscious hair. The one trait Taylor thought was truly attractive about her, past down her mother's line to her, her one true connection even past her death.

Her mother had told her she was looking for answers to why her families long held powers had vanished not long after the appearance of Scion. Taylor had considered it to be a fanciful tale to draw her mind away from the fact that her Grandmother was likely dead. They did live in Brockton Bay after all.

There had been some truth to some of the stories, that she knew. How they were descended from a line of witches, who used their hair as vessels for powers of darkness and summoning of powerful demons. Well, not the powers and demons, but they had a very fancy and old looking book that listed their family line, minus actual dates and ages, of a coven called the "Umbra" witches. Also her hair had never needed cutting. Something she could admit to herself was strange, but certainly wasn't proof of powers or the like.

So yes, she knew her family on her mother's side enjoyed telling stories full of magic and fantasy, and she knew that that's all they were. So then, she wondered, who had left a book of umbral magic on her bedspread while she'd been downstairs having breakfast with her dad.

The book was large, intimidatingly so, and looked brand new, the cover a deep dark purple, with a symbol which she vaguely remembered from some fading memories of a tattoo her grandma had proudly shown off all those years ago . If she held it in her hands it would be easily as large as her torso, and much wider, and it looked thicker than any book she'd even seen, and her mother had been an English teacher so she'd seen some heavy books in her time.

All strange, yes, but not the strangest thing about it. She'd asked her dad where it had come from, and he'd pressed the back of his hand against her forehead and asked her how she was feeling.

He couldn't see the book, which made no sense considering just how damn big it was.

What was going on?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

She'd been sat on the floor of her bedroom for some time now, flicking through the book, mind whirling in confusion.

The book was written in something she vaguely knew was called Enochian because her mother had mentioned it when talking about the heavenly language her family used to cast their 'magic'.

So how, when she'd never seen any examples of the written word, was she able to read the book so easily?

It had a fairly straight forward name, it was simply titled "Codex For The Next Generation of Umbra Witch". Worryingly it also, at multiple times in it's introductions of the books purpose of teaching a young witch on how to become a true and accomplished witch, addressed Taylor by name. Was this from her Grandma? Was she actually alive and following whatever leads her mother had mentioned all those years ago? But these were just stories!

Yet, she couldn't pull herself away. The book came with an exercise regime, instructions on appropriate foods (Which for some reason also included immense amounts of candy, magical and otherwise), and instructions on when to know one was ready to begin tapping into the darkness and demons.

Fascinating.

Taylors grades at school were abysmal, and it wasn't completely without merit. For the last year her ex-best friend and hanger ons had tormented and tortured her with no repercussions, and part of this harassment had been academic. Sabotaged projects and stolen homework. But despite her efforts it just simply wasn't possible to keep your grades up and learn at the intended level when she spent most of her time at school in a state of perpetual fear and depression.

Despite this, Taylor loved learning. More than that, she loved reading, and even though until this day she'd never thought of her families stories as anything but, they had still fascinated her with the idea of magic and the freedom it seemed to bring.

Taylor still didn't quite believe in the truths the book purported to tell, but she found herself absorbing the information like a sponge. She'd let herself go in her depression, and she had little to be proud of when she considered her lanky body, her protruding belly and wide mouth which she'd inherited from her mother and grandmother who'd made the look work, but on her made her look like a vaguely femenine and human shaped frog.

Still, despite the voice calling her crazy for putting any stock in these fairy tales, another louder part decided to latch onto any possible escape. Magic didn't exist, she knew that. But just because it didn't exist, didn't mean she couldn't believe right? She wanted to believe so badly, that if she followed the instructions in this book, she'd wake up one day, as beautiful as her grandmother, with the skills of the witches she'd told fantastic stories about.

Taylor got to work making a dream she didn't truly believe in, become reality.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Three months had passed since the invisible book had appeared on her bed, and there had been a few changes in her life. Firstly, for some reason, not long before the Endbringer Behemoths attack on Kolkata the trio, as she called her tormentors, had pulled back on their bullying on her.

She wasn't one to look gift horses in their mouths though, and she'd been slowly building up a stronger resistance against their torment as she leaned into the books training. Her stomach was mostly gone now. It wasn't toned like she was aiming for, but it was basically fat, and she had small muscles building in her arms and legs.

Her father, absent as he basically was at this point, had been more than happy to eat healthier after a little push, and it had even given them something to talk about as her improved health and diet rubbed off on him and his skin and demeanor both cleared up as they began to talk just that little bit more. They certainly weren't as close as they had been before her mother's death, but they actually sometimes spent the morning with each other when her dad didn't immediately have to go to work.

She'd even grown another two inches so now despite being smaller than a fair amount of the male seniors at school, she now towered over everyone in her own year. It had been yet another thing for the schools bullies, which for her was basically the whole school at this point, to latch onto but she powered through. The book mentioned in passing that almost all Umbra Witches were tall even sans 'battle outfit', and she was beginning to take more pride in herself as she spent more time on introspection to gain the focus needed for eventual summoning.

Not that she actually believed in the magic of course; invisible book or not, but the exercises physical and mental were really starting to see an improvement in her general life.

The biggest change though, and the one that made it the hardest to simply dismiss magic for what it was, was her hair. It was silkier and softer than ever, even as wavy as it was at this length, but that wasn't the strange thing. The book had told her that after her initial meditations and incantations, which she'd done despite feeling ridiculous, her hair would be as strong as to be near indestructible.

She didn't know whether she'd done it to prove the book right or wrong, but she'd taken a pair of scissors very carefully to the end her hair and come away panting slightly with a slightly bent pair of scissors and hair completely unruffled by the aggressive snipping.

At this point she was actually beginning to feel a little spooked by the book. She lived in a world of heroes and villains, with powers that she could very easily see making something as simple as a book be visible to only a select few. Still, who else but her family knew about Umbra witches as to write a book so elaborate? And moreso, why target her?

Knowing there would be few answers appearing from sitting around head in her hand as she stared at the book in question, she decided to simply move on. It was time to start practicing summon incantations and jumps to purgatorio.

Not that she believed in magic or anything.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

_January 3rd 2011_

She'd known something was wrong as soon as she entered the school. Everyone was looking at her, and not just because her anxiety was whispering in her ear. She'd been slowly getting better about that, her dad had invited Kurt and Lacey for Christmas and New Years and she'd actually been able to start conversations with little worry. Her confidence had been increasing along with her general fitness and belief in her family's history.

So she could say, with confidence, that everyone actually was staring at her. The usual suspects were tittering to themselves as she passed, no doubt telling jokes at her expense, probably about how she was both a prostitute and also looked like a man in drag that no one would touch.

But so was everyone else, even those who generally ignored her existence, or were two years above her and therefore barely gave a care about the drama of Sophomores. They all looked apprehensive, some clearly with pity in their eyes, and others with some kind of excitement. There were even a few phones out, aiming at her on the sly.

As she got closer to her locker she knew why.

The fucking smell.

She didn't want to open her locker, even with only the grid on the front being the only air vent for what was inside, she found herself close to dry heaving at the smell. But there was a morbid fascination, similar to watching a car crash. She couldn't just walk away, she wanted to know what those bitches had done this time. She should have known better than to think they'd grown up and fucked off.

She turned away and took a deep breath before stepping forward and opening the door.

She immediately regretted that as the stench hit her in a wave, and despite it still being winter the stench was _warm_.

She bent over and threw up on the floor next to her locked, barely with enough mind to avoid her own shoes.

She went to force herself to stand up straight when a pair of hands grabbed her from the back and forced her forwards to her locker, only just managing to put her hand on the locked to the side to stop herself being pushed in face first.

"Don't worry Hebert we're just putting you with the trash where you belong. Now. Get. Fucking. In," the psychopath she knew as Sophia Hess hissed in her ear, her body stronger than hers despite her knew found athleticism, having been a track runner since the start of school. Still she wouldn't have been able to force her in if a viciously smiling redhead hadn't smacked a textbook onto the hand keeping her out.

Before she knew it the door was clanging behind her trapping her in her locker with rotten blood and female products, only the slightest sliver of light letting her see the bugs and waste her body was pressed and twisted against, the locker too small to move in any useful way, no leverage to kick her way out.

"Let me out!" she screamed, voice filled with rage and fear, the flys and maggots pressing against her hands and face, the taste of rotten blood on her lips. "Let me out!"

She could hear laughing, Sophia, Emma and Madison for definite. But she could hear more than that, there were so many of them, and none of them were doing _anything!_

She could feel her breath becoming shorter and shorter as she could feel a panic attack coming on. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was working on herself, the trio had been backing off. She'd have kept her head down, worked hard on bringing her grades up and maybe dropped out for homeschooling if need be, or hopefully transfer to Arcadia. She'd talked about it just the day before with her dad.

"Aww is someone scared of a little bit of dark? I remember you used to always go crying to mummy when you were little but you're in highschool now Tay-Tay, can't be crying anymore," she heard her once best friend sneer as someone banged on the locked pushing against her back and forcing her face further against the blood at the back even as she tried to move futilely away.

Why wasn't anyone helping her? How long had she been in here? Seconds? Minutes? No one had gone to classes yet, she could hear them, so there had to be a teacher in the hall right? Why did it feel like she'd been in here for so long?

"I said let me out Emma! Please, this isn't funny! Let! Me! Out!" She was thrashing as much as the tight container would let her, she felt like she was going to pass out at any minute.

[DESTINATION]

In a fit of helplessness she fell back on her hours of practice from the winter break, with no belief it would work, but pushed by hysteria to try something, anything. "PDEE BARMA!"

[AGREEMENT]

"Is she having a psychotic break or something, what is she saying?" A cutesy little voice mocking her the same as always, she ignored it.

"PDEE BARMA!" She cried one more time, her voice growing more powerful, a timbre of power beginning to leak into it.

[TRAJECTORY]

"Sophia? Shit Sophia are you okay?" A groan from a voice she recognised but she was beyond focusing on anything other than that power she could feel flowing through her, her clothes she could feel tearing away from her body as something else replaced it, the filth sliding off her skin. She could feel it. Once more and she would break through.

"PDEE BARMA!" She roared.

[AGREEMENT]

Circles of power appeared in the air, Enochian letters danced around the edges with a faint purple glow as a dark portal s meter or so wide stuttered into existence, as arms made of flesh and crystal tore themselves through the lockers on either side of her before grabbing her own and tearing it to pieces, screams of terror from the student populous as most took to running away, only the hardiest of cape fanatics staying behind to record what they were seeing. The Trio cowered on the floor, or at least Madison and Emma did, Sophia seemed to be pushing herself up from the floor, eyes cloudy.

"You're going to regret that," Taylor promised them, seemingly calm despite the rage beneath the surface. Her heart was beating a mile a minute and her mind was spinning with what had just happened. She had just summoned a god damn demon.

She could still smell the horror of the locker, it clung to her even though the waste had not, and she pushed herself past the desire for brutal and bloody revenge.

"I'm going home. Touch me again and you'll pay," she promised them as she summoned another arm to tear the school doors off there hinges as she ran past into the street. Ultimately a pointless act of destruction but she was barely holding back her anger. She needed to get home to talk to her dad.

The stories were real. _Magic_ was real.


	2. Two Faced (Mystique Taylor)

**Set up 1.0**

According to scientists, the average human body has around 37.2 trillion individual cells. As I said though, that's just on average. So say a person of average weight, average height; the quintessential 'average person' whenever a scientist is speaking, a mid thirties white man of average height and build. We'll say 5 feet 9 inches and just shy of 200 pounds. This can of course fluctuate pretty extremely, people have been as tall almost 9 feet and that's without including parahumans who can sometimes even take those extremes to even further extremes.

I'm getting away from myself, sorry, let's get back to my original point.

So let's say we round up to the least average person possible, we'll make them 9 feet tall, 300 pounds. I haven't done the math, though given time maybe I could, but let's just say that's double the cells. It's not quite right, but it'll do for making my point. So we're saying 74.4 trillion cells.

Can you imagine being aware of _every single one_ of those cells? Every second of every day? Now imagine I was underestimating that cell count. It was actually much _much_ closer to 200 trillion cells, all packed into a 5.8 frame of a slender female body, slender in this sense meaning very few feminine features. Before gaining powers and minus my hair, which I had been rather proud of, there had been little to differentiate my profile from that of a rather tall teenage boy.

You're probably thinking that sound like it'd be pretty hellish right? Most people freak out when they remember they have a tongue in their mouth and struggle to forget about it enough for it to feel comfortable. Being aware of every single part of your body, inside and out, _always?_

Well I'm happy to tell you, you're wrong. That many cells? Completely under my control? Always aware? It was _exhilarating._

Here I sat in the middle of a crowded mall, eyes taking in the hundreds of faces as they walked by, my perfect memory noting every single difference, every discrepancy, everything that made every single person unique, and I made it mine. I felt my brain matter shift as the memories of everything I saw, every wrinkle, every slight difference in the shade of someone's skin or hair, the similarities between people obviously related. Every single pattern of freckles on the six different redheads who'd walked past and I noted it permanently to memory, mine to play with as I wanted, my golden eyes sweeping hungrily for more and more information.

If you'd told me three months ago that people watching would have been one of my greatest joys I'd have called you crazy.

Well not really, I'd have mumbled something and looked down at the floor. But I'd have thought it.

Getting back to my previous point. You're probably wondering how the people watching and the awareness of every single cell making up my body were connected right?

Well as I've mentioned, I have powers. I'm what they call a cape, or a parahuman, or for me specifically in my situation and out cape.

See the thing is, other than my golden eyes, I'm also blue. It absolutely makes having a secret identity. You're going to be questioning that in a second when I finally reveal my powers, so I'll cut that point off now. I was in the middle of the boardwalk, part of the city I lived in often patrolled by the Protectorate, government capes, and therefore people recording them on their phones.

I was in the middle of being verbally beaten down by a girl I'd once considered a sister when my powers had decided they'd had enough of me being unaware of their existence and decided to make up for lost time by making sure everyone saw me in all my glory.

My power was shape-shifting, and it included being able to use my cells to create clothes and other small items. It also did the opposite, so when I was in my base form, it took my clothes with it. So there I was, three months ago mid January in all my blue naked glory, cell phone cameras turning to record the new publicly revealed cape. An hour later ten different videos, some of which had captured the initial change were plastered all over the internet and thousands knew who I was before I'd even managed to get in touch with my father.

I was past that though, it had come with perks that I would have struggled to understand at the time.

One of those was why I was walking around in all my blue skinned, golden eyed, red haired glory. I'd never shifted in front of a single person bar that initial public indecency and as such it was generally considered an unfortunate side effect of a rather weak brute thinker combo, two of the classifications given to powers.

I'd left people quite happily with the idea that my powers made me a little bit smarter, a little bit more flexible, and just a little bit stronger than my frame should allow. The idiots had taken it at face value.

That was another difference in myself from my powers. I had a bit of a complex, and I was smart enough to know it.

There I go again.

It's hard though, when you can look like anyone, when you can read every single micro expression because you can make your eyes and brains capable of processing everything about a person's face and body language at almost half speed. When you can sit on a computer or sit at a table at the library and digest a couple million words per hour and are capable of remembering and understanding them. You start to think of yourself as quite smart, and the people around you who until you turned blue considered you as beneath them, as beneath you.

Fortunately for me the PRT official in charge of my 'case', the civilian division in charge of the Protectorate capes known as the Parahuman Response Team, recommended a rather decent therapist and I was working quite hard to control my superiority complex while retaining the confidence it had bestowed me. It was a work in progress.

There was one downside though, and I'm sure you'll agree with me on this. Being aware of myself so much, even when people watching everything I was doing to build up my 'database', so to speak, of peoples features my mend tended to go into overdrive, tangents upon tangents building upon themselves, focusing was quite difficult. Which meant that when a pretty blonde, with a nice set of freckles and lips I was stealing for myself even as they quirked into a little friendly smile, walked up to me and began to speak I actually jumped, having completely missed her attention.

"Hey there," she started, her smile present in her voice. "My name's Lisa, and do I have a proposal for you." The quirk of her hips, hands places confidently, head tilted to the side, her eyes twinkling.

I turned to her my posture instantly imitating her perfectly, a frown slightly marring her face as a sense of something off she couldn't quite place likely took hold of her. I couldn't help myself, pretty girls like her would probably always piss me off just a little bit even as much as I enjoyed looking at them so toying with them would always be too fun to stop doing.

"Let's hear it then," I said, an identical smile on my face.


	3. Evergreen

**Evergreen**

**1.1**

Her mother took from her too soon, a betrayal from one she'd considered a sister, torment bordering on torture for two years too long. In a world where one truly bad day could see someone gifted with powers and abilities, none of these things were what pushed the young woman known as Taylor over the edge.

Her mother had been an English Teacher, but before she'd switched majors she had been a Botanist. She knew the change hadn't been because of a lack of love for the subject but because of the horrors of a supervillain Seeder that had taken place while her mother had been in her second year at BBU. She'd never asked what had happened, her mother always got quiet when she spoke about her early years at university, but she knew it had been bad.

As bad as it had been though, her mother's love for plants and all things green had never abated, simply the pursuit of the subject for study. She raised Taylor with the same love she gave any of her budding plants and instilled in Taylor that same love for all plantlife, from the smallest weed to the tallest tree. So when Taylor's mother died she threw herself into looking after her house's tiny backdoor garden as a way to stay connected.

Her favourite was the Eastern Redwood birth tree, planted by her father the day she'd been born while her mother was still in the hospital, and then carefully tended to by her mother as she grew. A celebration of her birth and her parents love for her, and a way for her to continue to nurture that connection with her mother even after her passing.

So when Taylor woke one morning during her 16th Summer, remarkably at peace despite the horrors she faced at school knowing she was safe during the holidays, and came downstairs for her morning ritual of tending to those plants that needed to be, her peace was shattered upon seeing her tree vandalized.

Someone, though she had her guesses, had somehow carved several inches deep into her beautiful Redwood all the insults and slurs that she dealt with every day at school.

She didn't care about the insults, she had weathered those and worse physical bullying every day for two years now, but the weeping sap from her mother's tree and the simple number of insults carved into the tree meant one thing.

Someone had killed her Mothers tree.

As her mind whirled in despair and rage she slumped to the ground, an entity reached out the create a connection-

_Two entities floated above the planet, shards began to splinter and fall-_

_-_the connection stopped suddenly as something warmed, something _Green_ reached out a comforting presence that settled over her. Without understanding from her part, her mind not yet ready for communication, a pact was made.

Beneath her skin her beating heart stuttered for just a beat before it began pumping anew, green spreading where once flowed red. Her eyes opened in shock at the sensations spreading over her body, her eyes once the brown of her father changed in a moment. The white of her eyes turned a green so dark it seemed black as her iris contrasted a luminescent green.

Where her fingers trailed against the grass they began to burrow beneath her skin, not quite painful, but an itch that began to cover her whole body as it adapted to the intrusion, ivy like protrusions fusing with her skin, capable of developing seeds or growing at great speed as a form of attack.

Her beautiful redwood began to heal as she stood and stepped forwards to it, her forehead pressed against it as she soothed the sounds of agony she could now hear from it.

In reverence and gratitude a few leafs fell to her long black mane of hair, turning it a shocking red as flowers began to bloom among her locks.

In the space of five minutes two girls in their pursuit of causing pain to someone who had never wronged them, had changed the fate of their planet forever.

The Green had found a champion for their planet, one who would fight against their enemies even as the humans succumbed to the faustian gifts they had been given. The entities would perish and the Green would bloom again, the planet was theirs for the taking.


	4. Worth

_**Asgard, Universe 20618. Ragnarok**_

The Bifrost had failed three decades prior. It was a living, breathing force of the universe, true, but not truly sentient. Because of this it could be tamed and used, but not coerced and reasoned with.

Loki knew this, but it didn't make what he had to do any less frustrating. If they could simply ask the bifrost to do what they needed things would be much easier. As it was, he had been trapped in the Bifrost chamber with his immediate family and Heimdall for a week as they made the necessary preparations to ensure the survival of their family, and more importantly, their people.

"Brother!" Shouted the ever boisterous voice of his once much hated brother. Things like sibling rivalries began to feel much less important when the death of everything you knew was creeping upon you. "Tell me you are almost done! The battle will be upon us in a matter of hours, strong we may be but the shard must be completed before the battle."

Loki grit his teeth as the sweat beneath his helmet built up, outfitted for the upcoming fight as he was.

"I have told you once and I will tell you again brother. The Bifrost will start the transfer between realities exactly when it is ready, not before or after. We are not simply transporting down to visit one of the nine realms, we are orchestrating a complete reality shift months in the planning. As it is we'll have to hold him off for weeks at the absolute best!" He snarled from his position, held upside hanging above the bifrost lines by Thor as he had for the last 20 hours, positioned perfectly where the Bifrost had begun to intersect from one reality to the next of the realm of Midgard. They were not sure why, nor would they question it given the circumstances, but the walls between realities were the most thin for the Realm that was home to the weakest of their subjects.

It was as Thor opened his mouth to continue the pointless bickering that their father Odin stepped forward from beside his worrying wife and quietened them with simply his presence as he turned to the Guardian of the Bifrost.

"Be quiet, the both of you. Heimdall I believe it has started?" He turned to their silent and stoic guardian who had stood without moving for as long as they had been in this room, his chiselled dark features turning to meet his King's eyes before simply nodding.

In the next second his blade, the key, plunged into the socket for the Bifrost and activated it at the exact second the Bifrost lurched as an ocean might do, the tear they had fostered over the last month splitting open just enough for the shard to slip from Loki's fingers and into the Realm beyond.

Thor quickly pulled his brother up just as the Bifrost would have struck him. While he would likely have lived given their fortitude as Odinson and giant alike, Loki did appreciate not having to put up with the burns he would have suffered. There were few weapons as destructive as an active Bifrost.

"I suppose I should thank you," he sniped as he walked towards the entrance to meet his parents who had already set to leave before the job had even completed. He wouldn't admit it, but knowing how absolute the faith in him for the task was heady. Even after having proven himself a few years prior he knew his parents often considered his brother to be quite unreliable.

"No brother," said Thor, catching him by surprise at his unusual sombre voice filled with conviction. "It is I who should thank you. A great warrior I may be, but this isn't a battle I could ever win. It is your plan that will see us to victory on this morrow," he spoke as he picked up his hammer Mjolnir and moved to follow.

"Well," Loki nodded as if to agree before stopping and squaring his chin as he pulled the blades from his back as his family plus Heimdall fell in to step as they crossed the Bifrost bridge. In front of them the sky had already begun to turn to red, a sign of the times about to start. "If we're being honest, I suppose we'll be thanking either our brother or sister once all things are said and done."

"The Ravens tell me it will likely be a daughter," their mother spoke for the first time that day, in silent vigil as she had been. "With the intelligence and wit of my youngest, the strength and courage of my oldest," she met their eyes as she spoke. "But above all, with the tenacity and conviction our family has always held."

She turned to look back at the Bifrost which pulsed beneath their planet one last time as the exchange was completed and the tear between worlds healed, for now.

"And she will need all those things if my visions are to be believed. Good luck to you, my daughter," and with that she turned to fall back into step.

Their saviour would have their own battles before they could meet for the first time, but they too had their own war to fight.

* * *

A/N - I actually had little trouble with this one. I actually have a decent outline for where it would go. It'd start out pretty Earth Bet heavy with very little to do with Thor/Marvel until a decent way into the story. I did, however, have a lot of trouble with ending the prologue, which is what this chapter would be. I don't like the last sentence, but I didn't want to remove it either, but I also couldn't bring myself to add anything else because anything else would have been needless fluff and distracting from the setup to the actual story.

After this I have an idea for a Worm/Eureka Seven cross that was actually the first thing I tried to write but I was incredibly unhappy with but I'm going to try to crack out sometime soon-ish. After that, I think I'm going to give writing out a second chapter for one of these a go. I'm enjoying practising writing and maybe with enough I might try to crank out an actual full story. Anyway thanks for reading, pop a suggestion in the reviews if there's a crossover or idea you wanna see. Can't promise anything but I'm always happy to be inspired to write.


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